


Whore's Pasta

by neevebrody



Category: Dawson's Creek, Thoughtcrimes (2003)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-12
Updated: 2010-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-07 05:04:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neevebrody/pseuds/neevebrody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vince cooks and Freya comes for dinner</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whore's Pasta

Vince smiled at the sound of Brendan's voice. He hadn't gotten inside the door good, and already he was complaining.

"I had to go to three bakeries to get this particular focaccia," Brendan said, tossing the rounds of bread onto the counter.

Vincent took a deep breath, they smelled wonderful. He leaned in and kissed Brendan's cheek. Mmm, Brendan smelled wonderful too. "You'll be glad you did when you taste how well it goes with the pasta," he said as he minced several cloves of garlic. "I got the wine, so we're all set." He bumped Brendan with his hip. "And… you're even home early… we've got time for a little…" He hesitated, holding the garlic on the knife above the hot pan. "You wanna?"

Brendan looked like Vince had just stepped on his foot. "You're serious, aren't you? In case the garlic's gone to your head, Freya will be here in an hour. If we… she'll… well, she'll…"

Vince pushed the garlic off the edge of the knife into the hot olive oil. "So you don't think she already knows we fuck…" he said, stirring, "…and do all kinds of other stuff like cuddle and make-out in front of the TV."

Brendan's stare was curious. "We do _not_ cuddle," he finally said, wafting some of the steam his way while Vince squeezed the canned tomatoes, breaking them up with his hands before dropping them in.

"Oh, Jesus. Get over yourself. What are you so freaked about anyway? I hate to break this to you, Bren, but Freya's been around long enough to know all your secrets."

"Which is why I'm freaked. God, that smells good."

"Does doesn't it? Now, hand me that anchovy paste and the capers will you?"

Brendan brought the things Vince wanted and leaned close to watch. Vince stirred the ingredients together, nudging Brendan's chin up with his shoulder so he could kiss him, tipping his head back as Brendan began to take the kiss a little more seriously than he'd intended. Damn it, Brendan was probably doing in on purpose just to get him all worked up.

"Go on," Vince said as he broke away. "Get out of here and leave me to my sauce. Go take your shower, you fucking tease."

Brendan's smile was mischievous. He ran a hand over Vincent's ass and licked the corner of his mouth before leaving Vince standing in front of the stove alone. His hard-on somehow an obscene consort to the pungently fragrant aroma of the sauce.

Damn.

~~~

He checked his watch. The time was T minus fifteen minutes and counting. He'd opened the wine to let it breathe and was waiting to start the pasta. It had taken forever for Vincent to convince Brendan to ask Freya for dinner. She'd been a real friend to both of them and Vince thought Brendan's fears of having her in the apartment were unfounded and totally ridiculous.

Pouring himself a little taste of the Cabernet, he turned around to find Brendan watching him from the doorway. Vince couldn't help his whistle – Brendan looked good enough to be the main course. He loved the way the white linen shirt fit and it went well with the dark jeans and the half-dried hair. Now he knew Brendan was doing this on purpose. Vince downed the rest of the wine as Brendan walked over, stirring every one of Vincent's senses and then some.

"You are evil," Vince told him, giving in to another kiss. "And you are so gonna get what's coming to you."

Brendan looked past him to the sauce. "I sure hope so… oh, you added mushrooms."

"Bastard," Vince ground out, working the lobe of his lover's ear between his teeth. "You think I can trust you to watch this stuff while I grab a quick shower."

~~~

The dinner was perfect and Vincent happily admitted as much. The wine had been a great complement to the Puttanesca, as much as the focaccia, though Brendan had turned a little pink at Vince's explanation of one of the common names for the dish, whore's spaghetti. Simply that it was a dish made with ingredients anyone would have in their cupboards and it was a quick, hot meal working girls could prepare between customers.

Then they'd caught up on all the NSA gossip. Brendan had been fidgety most of the evening and Vince noticed the fond looks Freya would give her partner, right before turning to him and grinning.

Like she was doing now.

She was telling them about the little bakery in her neighborhood where she'd gotten the cannoli, and Vince thanked her for thinking of the dessert wine. That would be a real treat. Then, just for the hell of it, while he still had her attention…

_…don't let that innocent face and those pink ears fool you… we're like a couple of rabbits around here… everywhere…_

Her eyes widened, but not in shock, and she pretended to be listening to Brendan, who was apparently oblivious to the wonders of dessert wines, or that there were such things. Freya smiled and began to answer his question.

_…yep, even the dining room… this table… dozens of times… the front hall, couch, shower… pretty much anywhere there's a vertical or horizontal surface…_

That stopped her, her face frozen seemingly in bemusement before she broke out in laughter, shaking her head. Brendan immediately looked to him, eyes scandalized saucers, his mouth agape. Vince looked away, back to Freya. _…poor Brendan, he was really worried you'd find out by reading his thoughts… but me… I just want you to know… he's happy… you take care of him at work… I've got his back here… he's good..._

She smiled and reached out for Vincent's hand. Then she turned to Brendan. "So, let's have dessert in the kitchen. I'll make us some coffee."

_…kitchen too…_

~~~

The rest of the evening was comfortable. Vince finally settled down – the cannoli helped – and even Brendan seemed to lose the stick in his ass. The wine probably had something to do with that. He sat quietly and listened to Vince and Freya's discussion about law school and the rigors of a first year's schedule. Eleven o'clock slipped up on them easily.

They walked Freya downstairs to wait for the taxi and she thanked them for a wonderfully _entertaining_ dinner. When her cab arrived, she pulled Brendan into a hug and told him she'd see him in the morning.

She hugged Vince as well, saying 'thank you' again, and Vince knew it wasn't for the dinner.

They stood for a moment and watched the cab drive away, Vince's arm around Brendan's waist. "I think that went really well," he said, pulling aside the linen collar and licking a hot stripe up the side of Brendan's neck.

"Are you going to tell me what you said to her?"

He turned Brendan to him, pulling the shirt free of Brendan's jeans and snaking his hands up over the warm skin. "Mmm, you take my ass to bed, baby, and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

Brendan broke their kiss. "Yeah, and then I'll forget my question."

"I'm counting on that." Vince smiled and tweaked Brendan's nipples.

"Vince?"

He mirrored the serious look in Brendan's eyes. "I told her you were happy, okay—that you were fine… with me. That's true, right?" he asked, taking Brendan's face in his hands. "I make you happy?"

Brendan nodded.

"Good, now let's go to bed and you can show me just how happy."


End file.
